Seasons
by solitaryloner
Summary: Seasons come and change, and people change too. And though they might change slowly, change will always be there. It just depends on how willing you are to wait. After all, if the rosebud blooms immediately after you plant it, then there's no satisfaction reaped from watching it grow and change with the seasons now, is there? LenXMiku, rating might go up to M depending on my mood.
1. Chapter 1

_Spring_

He glanced up at the clock, fidgeted nervously in his seat, looked back down at his pocket watch, then closed it with a sigh. _No point waiting so nervously. She'll come when she does. _Not that he was particularly excited about meeting her.

How could be possibly be excited when he had never even seen her before? All he knew about her was her name. And honestly, he didn't appreciate being tied down so young. But if his parents wanted him to marry, then he had to. It was improper for a young lord of his standing to go against his parents' wishes…_you're eighteen this year, for God's sake. It's high time you got settled and got yourself a wife_, his mother's voice echoed through his mind, and he rolled his eyes, albeit in a good-natured way. She was right, in some sense.

He couldn't deny they were right. He just wished it wasn't so soon, nor so sudden. He knew nothing about this sudden engagement - just that one day, his parents woke him up and told him he was engaged to a girl he had never even _heard _of before that day, and that he was to meet her the following week. It was laughable. But he found that in such a situation, he could not laugh. He swallowed nervously, gaze drifting to the clock again.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. _He could hear the slow, languorous ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. It seemed to be taunting him in some way. And that strangely annoyed him, something which the pleasantly dispositioned young lord was not prone to feeling. He fidgeted again, told himself to relax, and pursed his lips, staring out of the window. It was spring, and the flowers outside were lovely. The roses especially, the climbing ones that were peeking past the curtains on the vines winding up the pillars. He found that the sight calmed him.

"Ah, they're here," he jumped slightly at the sound of his mother's voice. His father was not in the house today, having been informed of a sudden visit to Lord Kenzo's residence - his father was a businessman, and a shrewd one at that, and he knew better than to pass up an opportunity to meet the famed, reclusive textiles mogul. He turned to the parlour entrance - there stood his mother, with her usual haughty pose, ornate fan in hand, and that familiar lustrous golden hair which had been passed down to himself, wound up tightly in an elegant bun. "You seem most reluctant," his mother continued, sounding faintly displeased. He tried to force his features into a smile - she was very perceptive.

"Never reluctant, Mother," he said firmly, though some of that reluctance she had picked up showing evidently in the way he gripped the armrests of his chair. "It's for my own good, and the good of our family, I know," though this sentence was said admittedly in a dull tone that sounded most unlike himself. His mother's lips, nevertheless, curled slightly up into an approving smile. He secretly let out a sigh of relief, hoping she would question him no further. Questions at this point only served to make him more uncomfortable.

"Well, that is good. Lady Hatsune will be here at any moment, with her daughter. You should serve to make a good first impression. The Lady is overprotective of her daughter - you must be prepared for a good questioning," his mother laughed daintily, amused at her own joke. He smiled tightly in response, dreading the meeting more and more.

There was the sound of the front door opening, and a few strained murmurs from afar. _Probably the servants showing them in. _He didn't know what to make of the impending encounter - it filled him strangely with a sense of doom, and he couldn't help wishing that the whole affair would just get itself over and done with. His mother gave him a knowing look - she had that air of superiority about her ever since she informed him of his engagement - and left the room as quietly as she came. He wondered why she seemed like she knew so much - why she would always look at him with a mixture of smugness and pride, as though whatever was coming upon him would bring her great pleasure…

The moments of solitude seemed, at once, all too short, and painfully long. He did not know whether he wished to stay alone, or whether he wanted them to just enter the parlour so he could meet them already. He knew little of Lady Hatsune - her husband had died some years ago, leaving her the sole beneficiary of their shipping business. There had been some scandal over the whole matter, with a third party claiming part of the settlement fees - some had whispered quietly of a mistress - but he knew little of the whole affair, most of his time being spent being gay and merry. He was young, after all, and he would one day inherit his father's textiles business - but until he reached that point, he knew little of politics, and would much prefer to stay in such a situation.

There was a polite cough, and again he turned his head. One of the servants stood at the parlour entrance, with a woman by her side - if possible, even more haughty looking than his own mother. She was dressed in the typical garment of a noblewoman, and though he admitted she was a beautiful woman, that beauty was tempered by hard lines and a strong determination - he would not call her cruel, but there was a firmness to her that took away any aspect of femininity she might have had. It was further emphasised by her short hair - it was very strange for a woman of the nobility to have hair as short as she did, barely brushing against her neck. It was too short for her to tie in the normal bun.

He saw no sign of her daughter, and wondered if perhaps she was not free to visit today. Well, all the better for him. He didn't need this sort of stress at the moment, if he thought so himself. He rose, almost instinctively - though it was proper manners to do so, there was something regal and commanding about this lady that he had to rise in her presence - to remain seated would seem almost disrespectful. "Lady Hatsune," he inclined his head in her direction, daring to lift his gaze to observe her reaction. She simply nodded, with an air of disdainfulness about her, and moved in to seat herself opposite him. He was reminded of his own mother, and wondered at how these women could get along.

"So you are to be my son-in-law," she got straight to the point, hardly having waited for him to seat himself. "I must say that this is...sudden, especially for you," she tilted her head, expecting a response, her teal hair brushing against her defined collarbones. He withdrew his gaze, nodding quietly, and a faint smile flitted across her face - why she smiled, he did not know. Perhaps she found his quiet restraint entertaining. "Do you wonder where my daughter is?" she asked, and he simply nodded, finding little need to reply verbally. Her smile simply widened. "She will be here shortly. She's outside, in the gardens. My daughter has always been preferential towards Nature - you would do well to remember that."

He nodded again, though something akin to indignation was crossing through his mind - she appeared to be treating him like a simpleton of some sort. _Well, simpleton wouldn't be the right word to use...no, she's just holding herself as superior to me. Dear Lord, she does remind me of my own mother. _"I take it that my parents have already settled the dower and such?" he asked, knowing that it was not a pleasant topic but also knowing that it was something better established at the very start. Lady Hatsune pursed her lips and nodded, but said nothing other than that. The silence that fell between them after that was a little tense, and he resisted the urge to fidget yet again, not wanting to irritate the lady.

A sense of relief almost akin to exhilaration flooded him when again, he saw the servant girl returning, someone trailing almost reluctantly behind her. The other person, whoever it was, was slighter than the servant, so he failed to see his or her face - failed to recognise the gender at all, to tell the truth. Until Lady Hatsune looked up with a smile - then, he assumed that it was her daughter, coming back from the gardens. The relief was replaced with something almost like dread - he did not wish to face his future wife. He didn't even know who she was, and the prospect of marrying a stranger was not very appealing.

"Mistress Hatsune is here, Master," the servant girl addressed him respectfully, curtseying politely. He nodded - the girl behind her seemed to retreat a little at the sound of his station - and the servant girl unobtrusively backed away, hurrying away from the room. She continued standing in the shadows, clearly unwilling to come out into the open, until her mother made a sharp clicking noise and beckoned towards the girl. At that, she stepped a little closer, clearly reluctant still, and he felt rather sorry for her. _I doubt she had any more say in this engagement than I did, given her mother's temperament._

But all thoughts ceased the moment he laid eyes on her, and all he could think of was just how startlingly lovely the girl was. She looked - he could say this - she looked almost exactly like her mother, but without the haughty pride, without the cold determination - she was a softer, more delicate version of her mother, and that just made her seem near perfect in his eyes. For he could not deny the older woman's beauty, and her daughter had all that same beauty - and more. He found that he could not look away from her.

Lady Hatsune appeared to notice him staring, and frowned somewhat disapprovingly in his direction. "It is not polite to gape at a guest," she said sharply, and he sprang to attention, immediately leaping off his seat in his haste. The girl glanced at him, smiled briefly - if somewhat hesitantly - and went to her mother's side, standing next her. He introduced himself, his lips moving without any thought, and she nodded in response, saying nothing. He could not help but wonder about her quietness, despite such beauty.

No one could deny she was a lovely creature. She was of petite stature, her skin so white and fair that she seemed like she had never known the warmth of the sun's rays. Her hair was bright and braided, the teal mass falling down her back all the way to her waist. Her eyes reminded him of the bright green blades of grass that sprouted up through snow, the first signs of life and Spring. They were most attention catching, those large emerald orbs, and they rather entranced him. She looked like one of those faeries his mother told him about, when he was a child - those ethereal fey who were there, yet not, who beckoned and laughed yet were so fragile and wispy. And she was to marry him…

She seemed to catch him staring. She averted her gaze, and he tore his eyes away, looking back at her mother. Yes, she was beautiful, but he reminded himself that he knew nothing about her - and beauty without character was not anything impressive either. He would have to wait and see. "When are we to marry?" he asked, voice as placid as ever. A glint of something that reminded him uncomfortably of satisfaction crossed Lady Hatsune's eyes, and she responded with a casual shrug that did not fit her usual poise. He raised an eyebrow. "Then in two weeks, then? To allow for the banquet preparations," he stated.

Their responses were ambivalent. He suppressed the urge to let out a sigh. _It is not easy to deal with my in-law. _Lady Hatsune, after a momentary silence, coughed quietly. "I shall leave you two to get to know each other better. I know when I am playing gooseberry. You children have fun," the last phrase was said in a lilting way, and she rose from the armchair, sweeping decisively out of the room. He did not miss the look of panic that flitted across his fiancées' face at the departure of her mother, and wondered if he was really that frightening. He didn't think he had done anything at all to warrant such a reaction from her...or perhaps, just like him, she had no idea how to respond to this very sudden engagement. Perhaps it was the latter, it would not surprise him.

Their gazes met, and he nodded at her. She stared back at him, unmoving, and neither one of them said a word. He thought that this did not bear well for their future together, and sought to break the silence. "Mistress Hatsune. It is a pleasure to meet you," he said politely, holding out his hand. After a pause, she hesitantly extended her hand, grasping his in her delicate grip - they shook for a second, and she hurriedly let go.

"Same to you, Master Kagamine," she said quietly. Her voice was, in some ways, like her mother's as well - but without the proud, condescending tone the older woman was prone to having. She said nothing else, and he began to wonder if their marriage would survive if his fiancée could not even talk to him. He had never been married before, of course, but even he knew that a relationship would not sustain itself on silence and tension. Like the kind that was existing between them right now. It was ludicrous, and he wished he could go back in time and prevent his parents from ever getting him engaged at all.

"Shall I show you around?" he spoke up, a brave attempt at breaking the tension again. She simply nodded - he took notice of the way she carefully avoided physical contact, standing a little distance away from him, a distance that was not disrespectful but was clearly sufficient to indicate that she did not want him to touch her. He respected her implied desire and led the way out, all the while wondering about his new fiancée and if she would ever warm up to him - and, honestly, if he would be able to warm up to her too.

* * *

She was beautiful, but then he had always known that she was. Nevertheless, he could not help being taken aback by the beauty and elegance of the figure walking down the aisle towards him, gauzy veil covering her face, her hands clutching a bouquet of white roses. Her dress must have cost quite a sum, he mused, as his practiced eye roamed over silk and lace and diamonds - but he knew not how much, for the whole affair had been settled by the Hatsunes and he knew little of the preparations from the bride's side.

The train of the gown trailed over the rose petals strewn over the church floor, a mixture of red and white that he found strangely mesmerising. He saw her approach, and his best man shot him a smirk that did not go unnoticed - he noticed his fingers were trembling, and clenched them together to prevent them from shaking. She reached the stand, and they stood before the priest, reciting words they didn't understand, making vows they didn't believe. He placed his ring on her finger, and she did not object, though she flinched at his touch - that did not go unnoticed either. As custom dictated, they left the church together, walking side by side, not acknowledging any friends and relatives - _it's bad luck to acknowledge anyone on your way out, _his parents had told him. Well, he thought it was little more than superstition, but he did as they said. He didn't even look at his new wife.

_Till death do us part. How strange. _For, after all, they had only met for two weeks. Slightly less, actually - the whole affair was rather rushed. He suspected his parents were simply eager to get rid of him. They were probably tired of having a single son - the number of suitors he entertained and rejected had been getting rather tiresome. Perhaps that was why they finally took the initiative to get him a bride. Not that he was complaining…well, perhaps he was rather dissatisfied still that he had not gotten a say in his own betrothal.

There was clapping and cheering all around, and people throwing rice at him. He didn't particularly appreciate that, though he knew that was part of wedding tradition and customs. He knew she wasn't too fond of it either, judging from the way she flinched as the rice landed near them - he was not staring at her, but he could see her actions from the corner of his eyes. He walked a little faster so he could get out of the place sooner - he was starting to feel like a zoo exhibition. A great many of the nobility had come today, since the union of two powerful noble families was an occasion of great joyousness. At least, for the attendees. Both him and his bride didn't show much enthusiasm for it all.

His parents had been sitting at the first row of seats, his father looking positively adoring, his mother as proud and haughty as always. On the other side of the first row sat his new mother-in-law, who might as well be a carbon copy of his mother, given the similar looks of pride and self-confidence the two women possessed. Though they could not be more different in terms of looks, their countenance and the air about them spoke of elegance and sophistication - he wondered if he should worry at having such a headstrong mother-in-law, but decided if his parents were fine with it, he ought to be as well.

There was a wedding reception outside. They were in the park, since at his bride's insistence, they had to have a wedding near flowers. The church was in the park anyway, so it didn't matter to him - he just wanted to get the whole ceremony over and done with. His best man, who had been observing him curiously while he passed him the ring, came to his side at that instance, the same moment his bride left him - "You don't seem to take much interest in her. Are you not afraid that her eye might roam? She is young, and she seems to care little for you too. What with it being arranged, that is not very surprising."

It was meant to be a happy day, and a joyous event. But he couldn't seem to sum up the energy to pretend that he was excited about anything. It wasn't a marriage of choice, not for either him or her, and he couldn't force himself to feel happy about that, no matter how startlingly lovely a wife she was. Beauty alone wasn't enough to sway him - though a little voice in the back of his mind whispered that perhaps her beauty was sufficient. She reminded him, as he was realising, of a rose. She was delicate and lovely like a rose bloom, but she had thorns. And he was only beginning to find out what those thorns were.

"I have no need to worry. I don't feel for her...ours is a marriage of convenience," he said in response, his eyes never leaving her. She was mingling with her side of the guests, standing near the rose shrubs. He recalled what her mother said, that she liked nature, and wondered if roses were her favourite flower, for any floral decoration he could see on her - from the bouquet earlier to the floral garland on her head to the gauzy embossing on her gown - consisted of roses. He liked roses too, but he didn't think that was something he would ever tell her. It would be...strange to just bring it up to her.

"You haven't told me where you're going for your honeymoon," his best man and best friend told him, changing the topic - there was a knowing look in his eyes, something that was akin to slyness. But that look instantly disappeared when he turned to face his friend, a slightly bitter smile on his face, a response at hand that one most certainly wouldn't have expected to hear from a newly married groom - but theirs was a strange case.

"You don't know where we're going because we aren't going to have a honeymoon."

* * *

Their first night together was spent without any interruption. She refused to let him near her, and he would not intrude upon her personal space either. She made little effort to speak to him, and likewise he did not try to converse with her. It frustrated him, though. He couldn't deny that. They were strangers sharing a bed, and he didn't like the idea of that. He had to wonder why two strangers had to try so hard to pretend to be intimate.

_We are wedded. We're a couple. Yet we're nothing more than two strangers. _It was an irony that didn't go wasted on him. Honestly, the only thing she knew about him was that his name was Len Kagamine. And the only thing he knew about her was that her name was Miku Hatsune - no, now Miku Kagamine, since she was his wife. He was sitting on the bed, reading some documents his father had sent him - his father was saying that now he was a married man, it was high time he started taking an interest in business and politics too - and his new wife was bathing in the bathing chambers in his room. She was taking an awfully long time as well, but he brushed it off as being a female thing.

He hardly noticed when she left the chambers, but finally looked up after noticing, rather absent-mindedly, that someone was standing a little distance before him. He glanced up from his papers, and saw his wife dressed in a silk nightdress, her teal hair loose and undone, falling in natural waves around her petite frame. He blinked - it was odd for her to be standing before him without saying a single word - and tilted his head curiously.

"Ah, Len…" the name sounded foreign on her tongue. He enjoyed listening to her speak though, even if it happened rarely - she had a pleasantly melodious voice that was rather lulling, the kind of voice someone could listen to for hours and hours. "I was wondering which side of the bed would belong to me," she said hesitantly, in that now-familiar halting manner. He blinked, then glanced down at the bed he was sitting on. _Oh. This bed._

"I always take the left," he informed her, his tone no less hesitant than her own. She just nodded in response, and quietly went around to the right side of the bed - he glanced back after her, and wondered what she was thinking. She never seemed to put up any resistance to anything he told her. But..._but she doesn't like being touched. _That was something he didn't have to hear her say - he could see it in the way she tensed up the moment he approached her. He could see the way she would subtly move away from him, anything to avoid him touching her. He wondered why she was so averse to the idea of being touched - was she like this about everyone, or was it just him? And...well, why?

He didn't move at all from his spot on the end of the bed even after she slid under the blanket covers and turned away from him. He continued to watch her, knowing exactly when she fell asleep - the tensed breaths gave way to something more relaxed and languid, and that strangely comforted him as well. He saw the rise and fall of the covers according to her breaths, and couldn't take his eyes away - while awake, she was already fragile, but in her sleep she was downright vulnerable. It was rather unsettling.

As her husband, he was responsible for protecting her, but he knew so little about her that he wondered why he should be obligated to do such a thing. There was just something about her though - something about her beauty and vulnerability - which, no matter how often he reminded himself that beauty was not the answer to everything, could not stop him from gazing at her, awestruck by the sheer loveliness she possessed. It frustrated and enthralled him to an equal extent. He forced himself to look away.

His fingers slid slowly across the papers on his lap, eyes scanning but brain simply not absorbing the written words. He sighed softly and set the papers aside, turning back to face the sleeping figure - he knew that with her in this room, his attention would not focus on the dry papers his father had told him to read. Slowly, so as not to wake her up, he settled himself next to her on the bed, careful not to touch her, accidentally or not - he respected her enough to not touch her because he knew she didn't want that. His new bride, he mused, was strangely quiet, strangely aloof, strangely averse to touch - overall, she was strange, and it made him wonder. He wondered greatly about her, truly.

Maybe they would dissolve the tension between them eventually. She was, at least, willing to fall asleep in his presence. That appeared to be a good sign. He knew that he would eventually have to start talking to her, but was not particularly excited at the thought of that, not when neither one of them bothered to put in the effort to communicate with the other. He didn't want to feel rejected while speaking with her, and he knew that he would end up feeling that way - she was responsive, but she had never given him the impression that she was particularly interested in talking to her husband or getting to know him.

It made him wonder what kind of political motives Lady Hatsune had. If his wife was not here because of love or wealth, then there had to be some other motive why she was wed to him and not another noble. He just wanted to know what his family wanted from hers, and vice-versa - because he knew his mother well enough to know that this marriage would have benefited not only the Hatsunes, but his own family as well.

He was tired of being used as a political chess piece, but nobility never had a choice with what their parents chose to do with them. Nobles were, in that way, even more confined than the peasants. At least peasants had the free will to choose whether to live or die.

* * *

"...we haven't consummated our marriage," he admitted rather sourly, in response to his father's incredulous look. It was rather embarrassing to admit, that he had been married for an entire week and had yet to consummate said marriage. His father just continued to gape at him, as though he had grown a second head or something equally horrifying.

"But it's been an entire week…" his father finally said, echoing his own thoughts. He just let out a sigh, shrugging helplessly - well, she had never brought up such a thing nor did he want to force her into doing something she didn't want to. Besides, the two of them barely talked, and honestly he did not want to bed someone he didn't talk to. Even the ladies of the night he visited occasionally had more to speak with him about than his own wife. It was quite frustrating, really, to be married and still have no real outlet for his passions.

It made him wonder why he even agreed to this in the first place. Besides the fact that his parents had been the one to arrange this entire farce. "She is unwilling?" his father asked, still sounding a trifle shocked. He shrugged. _I wouldn't know if she was willing or not. We don't talk to begin with - and even if we did, it would have been strange to bring up such an issue. After all, it's not like we need to have children yet - we are both still young at present._

"Must we discuss this?" he asked abruptly. "I thought you called me here so as to tell me more about the firm's present financial situation," he added, in a rather snappish tone. He was generally rather good-natured, and realised he only got frustrated when people brought up his beautiful wife - he wasn't quite sure why, and wondered if unconsciously, the fact that he had yet to bed her was just making him feel severely emasculated.

"Whatever you say, son," his father responded in just as abrupt a fashion. "Though, if the reason why you have yet to finish your marriage rituals is because we are both here, you could always tell us...your mother and I would gladly allow you and your wife the space and time you need," his father beamed, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or break something. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose - no, nowadays he was getting too easily frustrated, and it was all because of _her. _It was extremely annoying, he had to admit it - but there was still something about her which would not let his attention go.

"It isn't about that, Father...I just…" his voice trailed off as he struggled to think of a way to explain himself. His gaze drifted out of his father's study, and he saw his wife walking among the rose shrubs outside. The flowers were starting to wilt - it was approaching the end of their life cycle, and the red petals were slowly falling, making a scarlet carpet all over the lawn. In the sea of red, she alone stood out, in her pure white sundress and her wide tweed sunhat, a blue satin ribbon tied around her slender neck. His words failed him, and he simply stared, utterly fascinated - she looked like a dryad, flitting playfully between the trees. His father noticed him staring, and turned to look. A sly smile came over his face.

"You're distracted. Go to her," his father dismissed him, shuffling up the papers on the desk. "I will speak with you another day." He was not quite willing to follow his father's command, but knew better than to defy him, so he rose from his seat and exited the study - _not like I would have listened to that anyway. Business isn't really my forte. _He wondered if he should go back to his room, or if he should go to the lawn and find his wife - after a great deal of internal struggling, he finally decided on the latter, knowing that even if he went back to his room he would not be able to stop thinking about her.

But by the time he reached the front lawn, she was already gone, and he had no idea where she went. He reentered the house, and wondered if he would find her in their room - so he went to check, and there she was, already out of her sundress, sitting on the bed and braiding her own hair. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't realise he had come in, her fingers deft and quick, twisting the thick teal hair back and forth. He stood, mesmerised by her, and wondered how long it would take for her to notice that he was in the room and watching her. He watched her braid the whole length of hair, the loose teal waves turning into an intricate plait which she wound into a bun.

She turned, their eyes met, and she visibly stiffened. For a while, the two of them just stared at each other. Then finally, her rosebud lips parted, and she spoke, inclining her head respectfully - "Len. I did not hear you enter. Pardon me for ignoring you all this while," she said, her voice low. He hurriedly waved off the apology, and she smiled, a little strained - she made to walk past him out of the room, clearly thinking he wanted to use it for his usual business purposes, but instinctively he reached out and caught her arm. He realised too late what he had done, and felt her stiffen, but to his surprise she did not pull away, and he wondered if that was a sign that she was more willing to accept him now.

"Would you like to go out for a picnic with me tomorrow? The weather nowadays is lovely. And it's approaching Summer - it's unlikely to rain, and it's good weather for a picnic," the sudden suggestion blurted out past his lips, and he blinked, startled by his own initiative. She hesitated, and he realised he was waiting with bated breath for her answer - then finally she nodded, and he let out the same breath he had been holding the whole time. He realised that he had largely expected her to say no, and was quite surprised that she had not disagreed. Perhaps she was not as cold to him as he originally thought.

With her agreement, he let her go, and she continued on her way. He stared at the door even after she was long gone, and couldn't help remembering the feel of her soft skin against his fingertips. He had never touched a girl that way before - even with those ladies of the night, their encounters had been wild and passionate, and he never...touched gently. He was a gentleman, but he was not a gentle man. But the delicacy of her skin prevented him from holding too tight, from pulling too hard - he didn't want to leave any mark.

But the feeling of soft skin against his own wasn't the one thing he remembered the most about his strangely new encounter. The most vivid thing that stood out to him, that he could not brush off no matter how hard he tried, was his reflection in those eyes - those lovely green eyes he was transfixed by, green eyes which reminded him, as always, of life and spring. Green eyes framed by thick eyelashes which added to her femininity…

Green eyes which, he now realised, belonged to him, and only to him.

* * *

_**Solitaryloner: **__Hi, I'm alive. And posting this because I have the time to. There will be four more chapters, and I've sort of already got them all planned out. Honestly I'm not too sure if I can still write because it has been like, a few months since I last wrote anything. But whatever. I'm hoping not all my readers have abandoned me. (This isn't really a comeback but I will try not to MIA again). Thanks for supporting me through all this time! It's just that I've been busy lately. I'll try to do the next chapter when I have time, yeah?_


	2. Chapter 2

Summer

The hours turned to days, the days to weeks, and the weeks to months.

Len's wife had yet to speak more than the usual few rudimentary sentences to him. They could hold a conversation now, he was glad to say, but other than that there had been little progress since their marriage. Would he even consider them friends?

It was a question that, unfortunately, he did not have the answer to. He jumped, startled, by the sound of a knock on his door – coughing out a cursory "Come in", he looked back down at his papers, wanting to seem as though he was focusing on his work instead of daydreaming – like what his father always assumed he was doing. Len tried, he really did, it was just…well, it was just that he didn't particularly take interest in trade.

Unconsciously, he reached up, loosening the collar of his shirt. It was a dreadfully hot summer this year, and the heat was sweltering, even in the coolness of the study. He could feel the dampness of perspiration sliding down the back of his neck and slanted his gaze towards the window, wondering if the heat was worth getting up from the seat for. He wasn't exactly in the mood to peel himself off the chair at the moment.

The door inched open, and long locks of teal showed themselves from behind. His eyes widened slightly, and the papers fell from his hand onto the desk, fluttering out in one huge mess which he would probably have to rearrange himself later. But that was beside the point – what was his _wife _doing here? She normally wouldn't come to find him of her own accord…usually, the only time she ever spoke to him first was when she needed to ask him something, like where was the best place to find craft materials near the area. It seemed that she enjoyed spending her leisure time doing embroidery.

"Yes?" he enquired, when he could finally force his lips to move. She glanced up at him from beneath long eyelashes, and if he looked really closely at her face, he could see her lips trembling slightly. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that, even after two months, his wife still didn't feel comfortable about speaking to him. But it was better, a whole lot better than the beginning. At least she opened her mouth around him now.

"Mother…my mother…she's coming today to visit," she murmured, walking into the study, the door closing softly behind her. He tilted his head slightly – yes, he was aware of that, so why was she telling him this now? That bewilderment must have shown up in his expression, for a sudden earnestness filled her green eyes, and she clasped her hands together, leaning forward slightly as she did. "Whatever you do, whatever she asks you later, you _must_ say no," she implored beseechingly, her green eyes looking almost pleading. He was utterly confused, simply gaping at her with no idea about what to say in response. It was such a strange request – to deny her mother everything?

"But…but why?" he finally spoke up, breaking out of the trance her green eyes had put him in – if there was one thing, just _one _thing he had to identify about his wife that would never stop fascinating him, it would be her eyes.

He had never seen such lovely eyes before, and the sheer depth and intensity of emotion she could convey with her gaze alone never failed to astound him. He didn't think he would ever be able to bring across such sentiment with his gaze – she spoke not with her mouth, but her eyes alone could tell him anything that she wanted to say.

It was something he realised a while ago, ever since they went on that picnic together. It was a quiet affair, but it was also the only time they ever had anything more than a few compulsory exchanged greetings, the usual empty and shallow phrases people spoke when they simply wanted to fill the silence. She spoke to him, and he spoke to her – he asked her about her life prior to their marriage, and she told him after a certain amount of hesitation. He learnt the story of a daughter who grew up in a home without a father, with a domineering mother who was headstrong and stubborn in every way, in a home where she felt that she was only a puppet who had no choice but to listen to her mother.

It was a tale that reminded him strangely of himself. Oh, she bore her mother no grudges, she confessed that much to him, but she did wish that sometimes, she would be allowed to make her own decisions. So he asked her if one thing she was referring to, regarding the loss of free will, was her marriage to him. Reluctantly, she had nodded.

He then asked if marrying him was something she regretted doing. Now _that _question, she had not answered, and no amount of probing got her to reveal her thoughts either. So in the end, he elected to respect her privacy, and chose to stop questioning her. He suspected that if the tables were turned and _she _were the one questioning him instead, he would not reply her outright either. How could he tell whether or not he regretted marrying her when he barely knew her, when they barely knew each other?

Was it possible to regret doing something when the _choice _to do it had never been his own? _Because puppets don't feel regret, do they? _He remembered the distant look in her emerald eyes when she looked away from him, and knew there and then that he and his wife had a lot more in common than he initially realised.

She didn't speak for a while. When she finally raised her head to meet his gaze, there was a certain stubbornness in her eyes he had never seen before – but that same stubbornness was tempered by the softness of her features and the gentleness of her voice. "Don't ask so many questions of me, please," she murmured, "just know that it's for your own good. I can't tell you any more than that…" her voice trailed off and she wrung her hands nervously. "I should be getting back to my needlework. It's been neglected," she finally whispered, before curtseying low and leaving the study.

Len simply gaped after her, feeling rather confused. That was actually the first time he had ever heard her sound anything close to assertive – usually, if they ever spoke together, he was the one filling the silence, while she simply nodded on occasion and might just voice her opinion if the situation required her to do so. She was meek and submissive, defiant in her own subtle way, and never outright asked anything of him. _It has to be something serious if she explicitly tells me to say no to her own mother._

He laced his fingers together, making a steeple and propping them under his chin, his gaze drifting away from the abandoned papers on the desk to the door she had left closed. He wondered why she was willing to ask him to defy her mother. From what little she had mentioned before, her mother was someone she loved and respected, but at the same time rather feared – it had to be something big to ask him to defy her this way. He wondered what it could possibly be. He wondered why she even asked him to say no. Did she care about him the way a wife would care about her husband?

But she barely knew him. He sighed, shaking his head in resignation – he would never understand her, or at least he didn't think he would understand her any time soon. It had only been what, two months since they married? And he wasn't any closer to understanding her and knowing more about her than when they were first engaged. She was a mystery that had closed herself off in her entirety to him, and try as he might, he couldn't get her to open up. That picnic a month ago was the closest he had ever come to holding a decent conversation with her. He still couldn't believe he had achieved that.

Now, he didn't have the confidence to ask her out with him again – though she was his own _wife. _It was pathetic of him, really. His best friend would laugh if Len ever confided in him about his problems. But Len wouldn't be able to fault him for laughing – what kind of husband dared not to talk to his wife? Even if the marriage was arranged, the ice should thaw after a few days. But their case was different – theirs was a rushed affair.

And they were a couple barely out of youth, barely into adult society. They knew little of the affairs and secrets of the political world – they knew little other than what they were taught in their sheltered childhoods, and one thing their parents had most certainly never taught them was how to handle a spouse they had never before met. He let out a quiet little groan, closing his eyes. _I want to get to know her, I really do – I'm tired of having a marriage that seems to be little more than a farce. I don't want to share my bed with someone who's no more than a stranger to me. _But his efforts didn't seem to produce any fruit, and sometimes he wondered if she even appreciated his attempts.

She never ignored him. But…there was just something that prevented him from doing anything that might shock her, or take their relationship another step further. And that was her aversion to his touch. He knew it now – he knew she had something against being touched by people. It wasn't just him, for he had observed her when they went for occasional walks out in public – she always kept to herself, her presence so small that one might miss her if they weren't looking, and took all possible measures to avoid being bumped into or touched by anyone else, including him. He had no idea why, and doubted that it would be a particularly good idea to ask her something so sensitive.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by another knock to the door, and he straightened in his chair, fairly certain this time that it would not be his wife. The door opened, and there stood his mother, the proud and haughty woman who had arranged this whole marriage for him in the first place – she smiled at him, her blue eyes unreadable. "Your mother-in-law has arrived, and it would be pleasant for you to show her inside, since your wife appears to have retreated to the bedchambers," she informed him, the smile on her face carefully neutral. Len swallowed, not wanting to leave the safety of his study but also knowing that he, as the son-in-law, had a duty to meet his wife's mother.

He was uncomfortably reminded of his very first meeting with the woman, and realised this would only be the second time he had to be in close proximity to her. He rather hoped that this encounter would not be anything like the first, because the first one had already rather rattled his nerves and he didn't think he could take anything like that again. As he rose from the chair and followed his mother out of the room, his mind went back to the cryptic warning his wife had delivered to him, just moments before – "_Whatever you do, whatever she asks you later, you must say no."_

He kept the warning close to him, unable to forget the frantic look in her eyes as she spoke those words. He trusted her, trusted that his own wife wouldn't do anything to harm him, and decided that he would do as she told him to – she knew her mother better than he ever would, after all. Those words made him undeniably curious about what Lady Hatsune might ask him later, and how Miku knew what she would ask…

It also made him wonder if his wife cared about him at all, and if she did, then why did she still not open herself up to him? As her husband, he had an obligation to care, but even without that he would have been concerned about her welfare – she was such a frail looking creature that to see her was to yearn to protect her. But did she genuinely care about him too, or was her concern simply duty bound, demanded by society?

He was approaching the main hall, and at the end of it he could see Lady Hatsune awaiting him, her chin tilted slightly, her back ramrod straight – and he decided that perhaps the issue of his wife's concern for him could wait for another time.

* * *

"Really now…you haven't touched her at all?" the woman sounded surprised. Len sighed, gritting his teeth, not sure if he should feel relieved that he was telling the truth or if he should feel indignant that he was being emasculated in such a manner.

"Yes. I haven't touched her at _all_," he emphasised the last word, "especially since I know it would go against her wishes. I do not want to offend her or hurt her in any way. She's my wife, and I…I don't want to make her unhappy," he finally said, realising that it was a truth despite the short amount of time they knew each other, despite the fact that their "husband and wife" title was nothing but a farce. He might not know her well, and all he knew of her was that she had a controlled childhood and beautiful eyes – but he knew her enough to not want her to be upset, especially not while she was by his side.

There was a tense silence between them, where Len fixed his gaze on the mantelpiece behind the Lady's head, unable to meet her eyes – his wife looked too much like her for his comfort. Looking at her was like looking at his wife…but a much more hostile version of her, perhaps. Lady Hatsune reminded him of a snake – beautifully mesmerising in all the wrong ways. Miku, on the other hand…Miku was gentle and quiet, and if Lady Hatsune was a snake, her daughter would be a lamb. He couldn't imagine the girl ever being able to hurt anyone. Lady Hatsune finally smiled, and he looked back at her somewhat reluctantly – he found he was not fond of speaking to the Lady.

"Did you ever think of having children?" the question was asked bluntly and blandly, and the look on her face was one of careful neutrality. Len felt his face flush slightly at the question and what it implied, and immediately had to glance away when Lady Hatsune looked knowingly at him. _Children…_it was something he had thought of, since he was married now. He knew that the prospect of having a child was one which he had to consider at length now. But did he really want to have children so soon?

He knew the right answer would be yes. Which noble family could survive without children? But as he opened his mouth to give that answer, he remembered what his wife told him – _no matter what she asks you, you have to tell her no. _And he trusted Miku a lot more than he trusted her mother. So he changed his tack, a strained smile making its way across his face – "No, of course not. We…we're too young to think of such a thing, aren't we?" he laughed nervously. Well, it was a semi-truth anyway. They _were _too young. He was barely eighteen, just as she was. His parents were still healthy and young, his father barely in his forties, his mother just approaching her late thirties.

There was no need to entertain the thought of having children yet, not when he didn't seem like he would be taking over the family business any time soon. A small smile crept across Lady Hatsune's face, and he wondered what she was making of his answer. "Really, you're not interested in having children? I thought that this was something all noblemen wanted. Children, something definite and concrete, filled with the blood of your legacy – but to not have to look after them yourself. No, the job of looking after your children falls upon the servants and your poor wife," she sounded scathing now, and Len struggled not to fidget at her words. _She sounds quite personally aggrieved._

It brought to mind the rumours surrounding her and the death of her husband, and the possibility of a mistress – but he decided that this would not be a good time to ask her anything about those rumours. "Is there anything else then, Lady Hatsune?" he asked her respectfully. The Lady glanced up at him, her hands folded carefully upon her lap, and tilted her head, her teal bob brushing against her cheeks. She gave him a long, careful look, and he felt his breath catch, knowing that she was sizing him up.

"Do you think you're capable of treating my daughter well? Do you think she's happy?" the question was simple. But the expectation behind that question was not – he could see the look in her eyes, discerning and slightly challenging. The _yes _came to his lips instinctively, but he struggled to hold it back – Miku had told him to say no to all her questions. But in this case, he had to wonder if he really ought to say no. It would sound completely, utterly callous if he said that he didn't think his wife would be happy with him. _Am I not capable of treating Miku well? Do I think she's happy…?_

"No…" he looked away, noticing the look of surprise that flitted across her face, and his mind raced to formulate some believable response for such an unconventional answer. He knew that most people would have answered yes, and if he couldn't give a proper reason as to why he thought otherwise, she would suspect that someone had told him to say no – and then things would get complicated. He didn't want Lady Hatsune to know that Miku was the one who had instigated him to do this. Somehow, he knew that to let her know would be an extremely bad idea. He…wanted to protect Miku from that.

"She barely knows me. How could she be happy with me?" he finally murmured, looking down, the faint bitter ring of truth entering his words – for it _was _true, no matter how optimistic he might be about their marriage. She didn't know him well, so how could he bring her happiness? The admission left a bitter taste in his mouth, but at least it gave the sound of truthfulness to what he said. She just stared at him for a while, seeming as though she had no idea how to respond, and he looked down, unwilling to meet her gaze. He had to admit that what he said shamed him – he didn't need to act for that.

"Well…I most certainly would not have expected you to say something like that," she finally broke the silence, and he continued looking down, avoiding her eyes. "But I'm glad to see that you're more realistic than what I expected," it was a dismissive line that held the faintest, most grudging hint of respect. He wondered if he should be awed that she didn't completely look down on him. "Pray tell me though, since you don't think you can bring my daughter happiness, then why shouldn't I just take her away from you now and bring her back home? Why should I let her continue being unhappy with you?"

It was a challenging question, but he was prepared for it. He had been prepared ever since she asked him if Miku would be happy by his side. "Because if you do that, you'd be breaking the law, and I'm certain that the noble Lady Hatsune wouldn't want to do that. And what's there to say that I wouldn't be able to give her happiness in the future? What happens now is not indicative of the future," he said quietly, aware that what he was right. She looked as though she wanted to refute that point, and he guessed that she most likely _was _capable of arguing with him, but to his surprise, she suddenly withdrew, a satisfied smile on her face. _But it just makes me feel like there's more to come._

"That's enough then. I have no more to say to you. I'd like to talk to your mother now, would you be so kind as to fetch her for me?" the Lady purred, her hands still folded daintily in her lap. A chill ran down his spine at the sound of that sickly sweet tone, and he hastily rose and bowed, agreeing to find his mother for the Lady. He wondered how those two would talk, since they were so much like each other in terms of temperament. And he wondered what it would be like if they ever came to loggerheads with each other. He thought it might be something quite amusing, if it weren't for the fact that one was his mother and the other was his mother-in-law, and he would be stuck in between.

He found his mother hovering nearby, quite obviously trying to listen in to his talk with the Lady, and ushered her into the room where Lady Hatsune was awaiting her. Then, with a sigh, he wondered what he ought to do now. He wasn't quite in the mood to go back to his work. Maybe he ought to find his wife…yes, he should. He really wanted to know why she told him to say no to her mother. It seemed like that had been the right decision to make, despite the strangeness of her questions, and he wanted to thank her, and find out why she had warned him. Was her mother planning anything?

He knew Miku was in their room, so he hastened to her, wanting to satiate his burning curiosity. Today was the closest his wife had ever come to sharing a secret with him, and he wanted to know the point of doing so. Why did she help him this way against her mother? This was a play of politics that he didn't understand, that he doubted _she _herself understood either – and in their two noble families, they, as the only ones who weren't part of the adult world yet at the same time were, could only rely on each other. Who knew what their parents wanted, what they would try to get out of them?

Miku was the only one he trusted though he barely knew her, and he somehow felt that she thought the same way of him. He didn't know if that was presumptuous of him, to assume something so significant – _but that's why I'm asking her, is it not?_

* * *

"I can't tell you. But it's for your own good, believe me," her eyes were earnest, and it was dissolving his will to question her any further. "You saw…how she reacted, right? I wasn't lying to you," she clasped her hands together again, the gesture nervous.

She was so soft-spoken that sometimes he couldn't quite hear what she was saying. "I know that what you warned me to do was right," he hesitated. "I'm just wondering…I just want to know why you helped me that way," her green eyes widened when he asked her that, in so blunt a manner. "I thought…well, she's your mother, so wouldn't you…I don't know, be on _her _side rather than mine, if you get what I mean?" he asked, a feeling of helplessness running through him – to hide that, he raked his fingers through his hair, brushing his long fringe away from his face. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"Why I helped you…?" she echoed, staring wide-eyed at him. He nodded, unable to say another word. They were in his room – _their _room – and they were both seated on the bed, facing each other, her eyes boring into him and his looking at anywhere but her. "You are my husband…" the answer was so straightforward and simple that he blinked, wondering if he had misheard. _But since when had she cared about me in that way, cared enough to want to help me? _"I have a duty towards you, even if I did not choose to marry you," she added, and that made a lot more sense when said in conjunction with her earlier words. "The husband before the mother – isn't that what the law demands?"

That innocuous little phrase made her sound uncannily like her mother, and he felt a little uncomfortable with that – one headstrong Hatsune was more than enough for him. She fell silent again, the usual silence that always lay between the two of them, and he wished he had a way to break it without sounding abrupt. To his surprise, the first one to break the silence between the two of them was her, not him. "It has been some time since we went on that picnic," her voice was now wavering, barely audible, and he had to strain a little to catch what she said. "Should we…should we go on another?"

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze. Her green eyes reminded him of summer leaves now, and he saw himself in their depths. He couldn't say no to those eyes – never _wanted _to say no to them, not when they were so precious and gentle. But he had to admit that her request had surprised him. "You enjoyed the previous one?" he asked, feeling a little surprised. She had not given him that impression, since she had not spoken very much to him then. Not much more than how she spoke to him now.

"It was…nice. It was different from…what I am used to," was her quiet reply, and their gazes met. He became painfully aware of how close they were, with just a little wall of space in between them. Their hands, spread out on the duvet of the bed, were tantalisingly close – he could reach out to her right now, right then, and clasp her tiny, dainty little hand in his own larger one. It would be a painfully bold move, one that he normally would not mind taking if she didn't mind – but he knew she minded. She minded a lot, and he didn't want to do anything that went against her wishes.

She followed his gaze and noticed their close proximity, and immediately backed away from him, looking down and tucking her hands safely in her lap. It was almost as though she had forgotten, for just a short while, her own unwillingness to let him touch her. He wondered if that really was the case, or if it was just wishful thinking on his part. It did appear that they were getting closer, if the fact that she had just initiated another outing with him indicated anything. He wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel about that. Of course, he was happy, but other than that, he was full of nerves as well.

He had no idea how to deal with commitment. Honestly, Len Kagamine was not someone particularly well known for commitment. There was a reason why his parents had been the ones to decide his engagement for him, and had not allowed him a say in who to marry. There was a reason why he was still dragging his feet when it came to taking over the helm of the textiles trading firm his father ran. There was a reason why he was called flighty and indecisive, why the servant girls would giggle whenever he came near and shot them a playful wink, why he was known to have many lovers and dalliances with ladies of the night. Why, all his life, he had declared himself single.

Because commitment was an idea that terrified him. The idea of being tied down to _one _thing, to _one _person, was a concept that was strangely foreign to him. To him, life was all about living and experiencing, about living in the thrill of the moment. If he was tied down to just one girl, then how would he know what the others were like? He was never loyal to just one lover – he couldn't be, he felt that the very idea of that would suffocate him. But now he was married he knew he had to watch his behaviour. It was just he had no idea how to go about doing that. How could he tone down when he was so used to a life of merriment and excess? But he was trying…he wondered if Miku cared, really.

She didn't seem to have any romantic interest in him, which was rather sad for a married couple, actually. Not that it was entirely surprising, since it was an arranged marriage after all. He wasn't sure if he wanted his wife to love him, because if she didn't and he did end up with a mistress…_just a chance, it's just a what-if_ – then he wouldn't feel quite so guilty. But if she didn't love him, then…there was just something sad about a marriage with no love. It went back to the whole point of two strangers sharing a bed – why should he try so hard to keep up a farce which they both didn't believe in?

"I don't see why not," he answered absently, remembering that he had yet to answer her question about the picnic. "It would be nice to go out and eat together. Then we don't have to pretend to understand politics that we don't know anything about…" the last few words were spoken in a murmur, and she looked questioningly at him, clearly not having caught what he said. He simply smiled and dismissed it, saying that it was nothing important. A faint shadow flitted across her face, and she nodded.

She said she had to attend to something, so she rose from the bed, brushing her skirts down, her long teal hair falling freely down her back. He wasn't sure if he preferred her with her hair up or down. When it was tied up, she looked graceful and elegant, her slender exposed neck making her seem all the more vulnerable, and that intensified the painful ache in his chest he felt whenever he looked at her – an ache which told him to keep her safe, for there was something in the heart of every man that commanded some part of him to keep a lady safe. It was only right, even if he was not that chivalrous.

But when her hair was let down, as it was now, she looked like a dainty little fairy who could disappear from his sight at any moment. She was already small, and her hair was long and thick, framing her petite frame and making her look even smaller than she already was. She looked ethereal and wispy, and he longed to keep her in his sight lest something so precious disappear forever. But he didn't give voice to such a strange longing, knowing that this was _not _because he loved her – how could he love someone he barely knew, and had spoken so little to? _She is just…there is something about her._

Before she left the room, however, he reached out to her, a soft and questioning gesture. She froze, suddenly so still that one might have mistaken her for a sculpture rather than a live human being. She didn't move, however, and he inched forward even more cautiously, like someone approaching a wounded deer – carefully, just in case the deer fled and brought more harm upon itself. She still didn't move, and carefully, he held her hand. It was the first time he had touched her since he grabbed her shoulder the other time, when he first asked her if she wanted to go on a picnic with him. He could feel her hand in his palm, so soft and small. It was so much tinier than his. He marvelled at it.

Her skin was soft and smooth, and very pale. She was just slightly paler than he was, and he knew he was considered fair, even for a noble. He couldn't get tan – he had tried, his tan always faded after a few days. His mother preferred him fair anyway; she always said that was more befitting of a noble. _Only the peasants who have no choice but to toil in the sun should have to be dark-skinned. _Honestly, he thought his fair skin made him look rather feminine, but how could he possibly argue with his mother? Even his father, the head of the Kagamine family, could not hold his own against his wife.

Carefully, gently, he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing them ever so gently against the back of her hand. He glanced up to observe her reaction – was already startled that she didn't immediately pull away – and watched as a faint pink tint spread across her cheeks. He let go of her, and she stepped back from him, her green eyes wide with curiosity and some other emotion he found he could not identify. Her blush deepened as he returned her stare, and finally she ducked her head, rushing out of the room.

He didn't know whether he found that amusing or not. But he did think it was rather sweet, and…she was adorable, he had to admit that too. She was intriguing and unlike any girl he had ever been with, and he didn't know how to start getting close to her. He sighed, looking at the floor despondently – he, Len Kagamine, being confused and unsure about a _girl. _He never thought that such a day would come – but then, he never thought he would ever marry a girl like Miku Hatsune. Never thought he would marry at all, which was quite a foolish thought in hindsight – his mother would not allow that.

He ran his fingers through his hair again, feeling listless. He had nothing to do – well, more accurately, he had work to do, but he didn't want to return to that. And his wife was not around, nor did he think it would be a very good idea to follow her now. He sensed that she needed some time alone – he was not completely oblivious to the mood of the atmosphere earlier, and knew she needed some time alone away from him for a while. He would respect that – honestly, he didn't know what had come over him either.

To kiss her hand, and so gently…it was unlike him, most unlike him, and he didn't know whether he liked the soft side he just displayed or not. It was so _foreign_. He decided not to think about that; instead, a small smile curved his lips as he thought about what to do next. He sought familiarity, and knew where exactly was the best place to find it.

* * *

"You seem distracted tonight," her voice murmured to him out of the darkness, her fingertips tracing small circles over his bare chest. She was leaning on her side, head propped up on her arm, watching him with a seductive smile on her lips.

He couldn't even remember her name, and could barely recall what she looked like before they extinguished the lamp – and, with only the faint light of the moon shining through the windows, he could not truly discern her features either. As usual, she was just someone he had met in the back alleys of the pub, and she was willing – so why not? This was something familiar anyway, something he had done before numerous times.

The only difference was, now he was married to another girl, and that simple difference was causing a sick churning feeling in his stomach. He knew there was nothing wrong with this – he didn't have any feelings for this woman, didn't want to take her on as a second wife or a mistress or anything. This was nothing but a commercial service to her and a relief of tension for him, a relief that his wife would not provide him with, he knew without even asking that. But why did he feel so guilty, though he had done nothing to betray her? Even if he liked this woman…nothing wrong with a second wife, was there?

_Not that I want a second wife. And mother would never allow me to marry a lady of the night, not when we have a family reputation to keep. _"Nothing, nothing is bothering me," he answered, knowing that the woman wouldn't have cared even if he told her the truth. They were only in it for the money, and for his looks. If he had neither, they wouldn't even give him a minute of their time. But he couldn't fault them for that – after all, business was business. No love, only money… was this what he and Miku were, too?

"Really…?" her whisper in the darkness was soft and sensuous, but instead of exciting him as it usually would, he just felt more and more guilty. "Heard you got married some time ago, Master Kagamine. They say your wife, she's quite the looker, isn't she? Why are you still coming to me then, hm? Little girl can't satisfy your appetites?" she breathed in his ear, her arm sliding around him, her fingernails scratching lightly at him.

_You have no idea how right you are, really. _"Hmm, I missed you," he turned, twisting away from her wandering hand. "Is that enough for you?" he asked, his hand sliding down her arm, stopping hers from stroking him. He felt bad enough – he didn't need her to keep touching him. It was just making him feel more and more guilty about himself.

"I'd believe that when you stop going to my sisters," she whispered to him, her voice sly. "I know you enjoy our company much more than you let on, Master Kagamine. You're a dangerous one, aren't you? A sly, naughty, _dirty _little noble you are," she giggled, and he just smiled at that. It was a strained smile. He couldn't help comparing her to Miku – Miku wouldn't talk like that. And her whispers weren't sensuous and seductive – she was soft and sweet, the innocence in her eyes a stark contrast against this woman's experience and teasing words. She ought to appeal to him more than his wife did – but why was it that the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to return to Miku?

"Staying the night again?" she asked, pressing herself closer against him. He edged away, and she gasped, the cooler air of the night replacing the warmth of his body. He slid out of bed, finding his shirt, and she sat up in bed, staring at him. "Why, you're different tonight, Master Kagamine. Are you sure nothing is bothering you? You don't quite seem to be…ah, _enjoying _yourself as much as usual," traces of curiosity could be heard in her voice. Len simply put his shirt on, buttoning the shirt up swiftly and deftly, his fingers long used to finding the buttons and holes in the darkness. _I've done this too many times._

"No, it's nothing really. It's just…I should go home. She will wonder where I am," he knew not whether or not that was true, but he just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. He wanted to see her, for some reason – wanted to look at the peacefulness on her face, the vulnerability of her features, and compare it against the sultriness of this woman – compare them and wonder _why _he wouldn't stop thinking about his wife when any sane man would prefer someone like _this _woman. Someone who was so much more experienced, someone who just wanted to have fun, who didn't expect any commitment from him. Unlike his wife, who he couldn't even touch, who he…just…shouldn't _want _to touch. She was completely nothing like what he wanted from his women.

But still he couldn't help imagining her in his arms and wondering if she was as soft as her hand was – wondering if holding her would feel better than anything this woman could offer him. Was it just because she was his wife that he felt so strongly about her? He didn't love her or anything like that, but…at the end of it all, they were legally bound, and it would be a lie if he said that he didn't feel anything at all for her. He just wasn't too sure, at this juncture, what exactly was the emotion he was experiencing.

"Ah. All right then, go back to your wife," she said dismissively, the previous warmth and seduction in her voice disappearing, becoming something more crisp and business-like. "But if you ever need someone to…_vent on_," the words were fraught with innuendos, "then you can always feel free to come visit me again," the words hinted strongly, and he pretended not to notice. "I'll see you again sometime soon perhaps, Master Kagamine."

"Maybe," he answered, not giving her a definite reply. Honestly, he didn't know if he would ever go back to a lady of the night. It wasn't just the sick feeling in his stomach that he now experienced – it wasn't just the churning guilt he felt when everything was over and the haze of lust and passion was lifted from his mind. It was just…

No matter how wrong it was – it shouldn't feel wrong because she was his _wife_, but it felt incredibly wrong because she was just so _pure _– earlier, while he had been caressing and whispering and pleasuring the woman who had just bade him farewell, he couldn't help imagining that instead of her, Miku was the one in her place instead.

* * *

_**Solitaryloner: **Three chapters to go. This has a very convoluted plot. I'm not sure if I can bring it across in my writing the way it happens in my head, but I'll try not to confuse people too much._


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